


intergalactic scrapbooking

by arigato



Series: Navigate the Universe [4]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adult Content, Alien Culture, Angst, Carol is a BAMF, Carol ruins Kree traditions, Domestic nonsense, F/M, Humor, Yon-Rogg is lucky to be along for the ride, but in the best way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:59:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arigato/pseuds/arigato
Summary: Carol's past, present and future as told through a series of moments.-An expanding collection of drabbles, all loosely based within the same 'verse.





	1. Give

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon prompt "Short and sweet. Maybe Carol finding out something really surprising about Kree culture or a holiday? Vice versa?"  
> I might get around to the "vice versa" someday too, enjoy!

 

It was times like this Carol sorely missed Earth the most. Be it ever so humble, at least they certainly knew how to have a good time with what they had down there. Especially at this time of year. 

 It was _supposed_ to be Christmas tomorrow, but with nothing to keep her anchored to earthly seasons Carol almost hadn’t noticed. Not that she’d had ever been religious, or even particularly liked the holiday- but damn if she didn’t miss the general cheer and simple warmth of her little found family. She could almost imagine it, how things used to be. Maria would be making her annual Christmas gumbo, the air thick with the spiced aroma while Carol tried to keep Monica out of the presents and focus on not eating the entire gingerbread house before the kid had a chance to put the kitschy gumdrops on the roof.

Snapping herself back to reality, she wondered if this was all, quite probably, a huge mistake as she made her way back from the all but deserted streets of the marketplace at this time of night. But it was too late, she’d already done it, paid considerably for it, and by god she’d even _wrapped it._ More vexing, Carol found she didn’t even have a decent reason for it- besides diehard sentimental compulsion.

She knew Yon-Rogg had broken his dagger after he was forced to cut through the nearly impenetrable skin of some unpronounceable creature on her behalf. He didn’t save her per say, because she would’ve undoubtedly figured something out, but the damn thing admittedly had surprised her pretty good. But before she could figure out where to aim a well deserved photon blast from where it had her pinned to the ground under its immense weight, Yon-Rogg had run it through from behind, thus fracturing his brother’s gifted dagger in the process.

Which was how Carol came up with the idea of _gift_ and _dagger_. Because who didn’t like receiving a re-forged blade in a box with a ribbon right?

 Finding the damn ribbon had actually proved to be the hardest part of her entire plan, aside from lifting the broken dagger from his personal effects without raising suspicions. The ex-commander’s stuff was insufferably organized, he always knew the moment something was amiss or missing, he was fussy like that. But he hadn’t said anything about it before she left on her little insomnia-jog, so she supposed she was home free- assuming the whole plan didn’t backfire because she offended him by rifling through his _very_ personal belongings.  Carol was reminded that he was essentially her prisoner not so long ago, and trust wasn’t a factor in the equation. But with things as they stood now- in order for her to trust him fully in this partnership, he needed to trust her. She didn’t know what this might do to their dynamics.

And what if he just didn’t like it? What if it was too personal- _Carol don’t be an idiot you live with him, you probably crossed that line months ago._ But she knew how Kree felt about their weapons, especially heirlooms like this one.

No matter what, she knew he’d be pragmatic about it, maybe grouse about shoddy Xandarian craftsmanship compared to its former glory, but he’d definitely use it, no questions there. But she wanted more than that, she wanted him to _like_ it. A part of her wanted to rub in his face all of the joyous holidays he’d been missing his whole life. The sheer joy of unwrapping gifts on Christmas morning, even if it was just another Barbie kitchen-set your family desperately wished you’d play with. Of course, the Kree had also holidays, but they mostly served as solemn days of reverence, self-deprivation and general anhedonia of some kind or another. She’d _always_ hated them on Hala with few exceptions.

She anxiously waited until the next morning to present it to him, holding the ridiculously wrapped and bowed thing out to him from where he was typing intently on his holopad.

“Hey uh,” Carol felt something knot up inside her. The whole exchange felt awkwardly misplaced, but that tended to be a running theme in her life these days. “I got this for you.”

“Oh?” Looking up, Yon-Rogg eyed the crinkling white gift in her arms carefully. “What’s this for?”

“It’s Christmas.”  He just blinked at her in response, and Carol felt more than a little ridiculous for expecting him to have any idea what she was on about. “It’s a Terran holiday. Remember that time I started singing those weird winter songs after that Knowhere bar fiasco? They’re from this holiday too.”

“Oh _yes_. I remember.” He gave her one of his rarest and most feral of grins at the memory of her drunken embarrassment of a night. “You know, I wonder if your pants are still on the-” Oh _son of a bitch_ of course he’d bring that up, she felt her cheeks grow hot.

Keen to keep him from reminiscing any further, she unceremoniously shoved the gift into his arms. “Well here you go.” Internally cringing both at the memory of that night and her decision to put a ludicrous bow on the damn present.

This was the moment of truth, to finally see if she’d taken things a step too far. But Yon-Rogg just stared down at the wrapped white box in his hands with its ridiculous green bow before looking back up at her, finding her looking oddly expectant.

“Truly, thank you for the Terran gift, Carol. I shall treasure it.” He gave her a tidy smile before turning put it on the shelf with his other sparse personal effects, his side of the living area utterly spartan compared to her overflowing mess of various trinkets.

“Yon.” She deadpanned.

“Mm?”

“You’re supposed to _open_ it.”

Halting his movements and cocking his head, Yon-Rogg looked at her before gazing down at the box in question. “Wouldn’t that ruin the exterior shell?”

 Carol breathed a sigh of defeat as she leaned into the back wall. “Look, as fun as it is to watch you struggle with this, I wanna see your reaction to what’s inside it _sometime_ today. Just pull on the bow and tear through the paper.”

 Yon-Rogg looked positively befuddled as he hesitantly tugged the bow off and tore through the wrapping at a comically gentle pace before he lifted the top to the box.

 “My dagger.” He said mutedly while peering inside.

“Yeah I know it’s not great, but hey- it’s really hard to find a dealer who admits they have a damn clue about Kree _anything_ on Xandar. Let alone Kree weapons, who’da thought it?” Carol rambled with something she refused to dignify as nervousness.

“It’s _perfect_.” He handled the weapon carefully while appraising it with rapt interest. “Why did you do this for me?”

“Like I said, it’s Christmas. It’s just… what we do, we give gifts to each other. That and you kinda saved my ass back in that cave last week.” She shrugged, but knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat if the situation called for it. 

Satisfied that her impromptu gift hadn’t turned out to be a train wreck, and feeling the stifle of some sort of raw emotion constricting in her chest, Carol turned to find something, _anything_ to busy herself with.

“What shall I get you in return?” Yon-Rogg sounded from behind her, his tone grave, as if undertaking a mission of upmost priority.

She felt the grin stretching across her face like wildfire before she could help herself. “ ‘Member the time you made that sweet cake-y thing?”

He responded with some outrageously overcomplicated Kree jargon for what essentially amounted to ‘chocolate cake’ for all intents and purposes.

Carol nodded. “Yeah, _that_.”

 

Perhaps Christmas out in the great nebulous reaches of distant galaxies wouldn’t be such a lost cause after all.


	2. Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That in which Kree traditions really suck… And so does Carol as she devises a plan to move Yon-Rogg to the "naughty" list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the much dirtier "vice versa" scenario for the last chapter. In which Carol experiences a Kree uh... "holiday".

 

To say Carol merely disliked Kree holidays was a tremendous understatement, she _hated_ them.

They were solemn, arrogantly self-righteous, pious, and an absolute requirement for every creature bound by Hala’s laws. Needless to say Yon-Rogg not only followed them with unwavering devotion, the prick _enjoyed_ them.

 Turned out, even after leaving Hala behind to follow his higher calling among Captain Marvel’s ranks, the holy days of the Kree were a hard habit to break. Especially for someone as devoted to the culture has Yon-Rogg had been.

Among a Kree’s most personal and best kept secrets were the form of the Supreme Intelligence and their chosen sacrifice during the month of Relinquishment. No one _ever_ confessed their relinquishment, as the willpower to deprive oneself was meant to be a deeply personal undertaking, originating from deep within oneself. It was rumored that those who succumbed to temptation would be judged unfavorably by the Supreme Intelligence; even young children were told that if they gave into the temptation, the Supreme Intelligence would know.

 _Or some kinda bullshit like that,_ Carol groused.

 Every year while she lived amongst them, Carol trivially picked the succulent sweetness of Nexa-Lick candy as her sacrifice. Already feeling so empty inside for reasons she couldn’t explain, depriving herself of the simple joy of her favorite candy seemed sufficient enough. One year she thought she’d try to refrain from making jokes, but immediately thought better of it, knowing the temptation would be far too great.

 On Hala, she always knew better than to bother asking Yon-Rogg what he’d chosen, she knew her commander would never reveal his secret sacrifice. However, this year Carol inadvertently found out soon enough.

 She’d had her suspicions as to what it was, with the way he’d been so careful not to let his touch wander beyond honorable intentions, the way he’d pretended to be oblivious to her blatant invitations to join her in the shower after sparring, and pulling away quickly whenever she touched her lips to his over the last few days.

 Deciding to test her theory, Carol crowded into his space in their shared bed. Initially he made room for her as he always did, letting her slot herself against him as she saw fit. When she ran her palms along his chest he hummed contentedly, but his eyes stubbornly remained closed even when she followed the trail of hair down to his stomach. It wasn’t until her hand slipped beneath his navel that he finally reacted with a rough grip to her wrist.

“Carol, you _temptress_ , stop it.” He drowsily chided before dragging her hand back up to his chest.

“I’m cold.” She was all innocent intentions as she squeezed herself even tighter to him.

“Yes well, _I’m_ respecting my ancestors.” He gently scooted her back onto her side, not buying her innocence for a minute.  “Also, you’re terribly warm.”

“Jerk.” She pouted.

“For the Relinquishment I must give up something I greatly desire, you know this.” Yon-Rogg gave her a hint of a remorseful smile

“Yeah, but did it have to be me?” Carol whined at the irony of it all. She’d thrown off the confines of sanctimonious Kree traditions as soon as she’d found out the truth, but they somehow still found a way to royally piss her off.

“Perhaps if you were less desirable, I would’ve chosen differently.” He teased, intending to soften his rebuff.

“Mmm,” Carol smiled coquettishly, pretending to be charmed before adding a harsh “Fuck you.”

But it went to her head, nonetheless. Kree tended to view sex as a means to an end or a bonding activity. It happened quite liberally on Hala, more or less depending on who you were. But apparently this was something more to him. Carol _knew_ she had him there, she knew this was likely the best sex he’d ever had in all his years, but she wanted to hear him say it.

Silence stretched on, but she knew Yon-Rogg wasn’t truly asleep yet, so she scooted back over into his space. “So wait, you’re saying it’s Relinquishment worthy? It’s really that good?”

He shot her one of his best exasperated glares before turning over to face away from her and her insistent pestering. Although he didn’t actually dignify it with an answer, it didn’t matter to her. She already knew. But what she’d really like to do now was crawl all over him and have her way.

But she’d indulge him, out of some sort of comradery and respect, she supposed. After all, she’d met refugees who’d gone years without so much as an touch from their own kind, she knew she could wait this one measly month out, but _damn_. S _he really hated Kree holidays._

Two weeks later and the goddamn tradition had officially overstayed its welcome. Yon-Rogg wouldn’t even spar with her in the mornings now. Deliberately changing his schedule to rise earlier than her, in order to carry out his training exercises alone- without the temptation of her fiery warmth smothering him into the mats. He would return soaked with exertion, earned from a desperate attempt to burn the vestiges of desire from himself.

In addition to the extra training he’d forced upon himself, Relinquishment came with meditation, and _lots_ of it. She’d return in the evenings from her daily excursions to find Yon-Rogg soundlessly mediating in seclusion.  It was in honor and thoughtful remembrance of the ancestors and the fallen. After spending most of his life serving, she imagined “the fallen” encompassed quite an extensive list for him, such that he sat in a deep meditative stance with unmoving devotion for hours on end.

Once, while enjoying an umag fruit pop, Carol caught him futilely eying her from where he sat in otherwise perfect serenity, unabashedly fixating on her lips as the popsicle passed between them. The ancestors were clearly the furthest thing from his mind as he eyed her hungrily, too pent up to even remember how to be coy.

 Carol decided enough was enough. He still had a full week left, but she was having none of it. She needed to put her foot down, and she knew _just_ how to do it. It seemed the rigorous combination of harsh training and hours of stiff mediation had taken a toll on him. This much was clear when he arose from the floor, hours later, with a wince- creating the perfect opportunity for her.

 “You sore?” She probed, knowing how he hated to display any sort of weakness in front of her, even now.

 He stretched out to his full height, unable to hide the grimace as his body protested further. “A bit.”

“Looks more than a bit. I’ve got some Topical-salve left from the medbay.” Predictably he opened his mouth to protest but she generously pressed on in a tone that brooked no arguments. “If you wanna go shower, I’ll see if I can’t find it.”

By the time he emerged from the bathroom wearing only a set of fitted-undershorts, she was already waiting for him on the bed, jar in hand. She patted the space next to her, but Yon-Rogg stubbornly maintained his position in the doorway.

He smiled wearily at her enthusiasm, but shook his head. “I’m sure I can apply it.”

“You got a good way of reaching back there?” Carol gestured at his back.

He sighed in withering exasperation at before slumping face down across the bed. Letting her have her way, apparently too worn and sore to argue with her further.

“Thought not.” She added, just to be a brat. She knew he loved it.

Just barely placing the tips of her warm hands against his skin, she noted how cool it was to the touch, the result of the intolerably cold showers he preferred. Which were likely taken to new extremes of late, if only to cool his ardor. Scooping up a generous helping of the muscle salve, Carol set about applying it between the broad blades of his shoulders first. He sighed into her touch, and the instant relief of the salve, further sinking himself into the mattress.

He’d always been a rather rigid man both in how he usually psychically carried himself and persona, but she certainly had her work cut out for her. His back was nearly without give under her hands initially. Pressing deep into his muscles rewarded her with a contented grunt, a guttural bitten off thing as she put more weight into her movements against him. 

Slowly she began to knead his shoulders and back into flexibility as she worked the salve into his skin. He remained absolutely tight lipped, save for the occasional gratified exhalation. But when she dragged her nails over his lower back, the Yon-Rogg shifted his hips into the mattress in a faint ghost of a thrust. Tight lipped or not, apparently she _was_ having an effect.

 His ass was right there, and she couldn’t help but give the shapely cheeks a squeeze. He let out an indignant huff at the contact. The Kree raised a wry brow over his shoulder. “Have you quite finished molesting me?”

“Nope. Flip over.”

Doing as instructed, he rolled over, notably keeping his golden eyes closed- allowing her to sneak a peak at her progress. It was no surprise to her that he was starting to show a _little_ sacrilegious interest once she flipped him onto his back. 

Carol decided it was time to take things up a notch as she turned her attention towards his stiffly sore abdominals. Gathering more salve on her hands, she ran over the planes of his chest, pressing her thumbs over the peaks she found there in a not-quite-accidental fondling of his nipples. She pressed her face in close, allowing him to feel the heat of her breath fanning across his abdominals, and causing his hair to stand on end while she worked her way down each divot of muscle across his toned stomach.

Carol let her mouth run dangerously close to her prize and felt the slight intake of breath as Yon-Rogg shifted underneath her. Ironically just as she’d gotten him to a state of suppleness, it seemed parts of him were only getting more stiff. Risking another downwards glance, Carol found that he was well and truly interested now, his hard cock leaving a prominent tent in his shorts.

“ _Carol_.” Oh, he knew her game now.

“Relax, we’re not doing anything bad.” She soothed.  The salve all but abandoned, she ran her fingers across the lines of his hips. He hadn’t stopped her yet, so she kept going, smoothing her hands downwards even further until she reached his inner thighs.   

Thankfully he’d thrown his arm up over his eyes, and missed the feral grin she released when she felt his hips buck slightly under her attentions. She did it again and his cock visibly jumped, trapped against the fabric of his undergarments. The constriction must be bordering on painful to him now- _Maybe she’d better remove them._  

“What are you doing?” He startled when she started to push them down a fraction.

“I’m trying to help you relax,” She soothed and backed off slightly. Lest she move too quickly and cause him to come to his senses, Carol opted to slowly massage the quivering abdominals just above his waistband  “And these look way too tight for that.” She murmured as she thumbed at the elastic, pulling it away from his waist incrementally and providing relief where his cock was stretching the fabric into a tight prison around it. 

“This isn’t a good idea.”  Yon-Rogg shuddered against the sweet respite.

 Carol hummed a noncommittal answer as she finally eased his shorts off.  Freed from confinement, his cock immediately sprung free- nearly clipping her nose in its eagerness. Now he had both arms splayed across his face, flushing bluer by the second under the thralls of arousal. As if somehow not seeing her made it less real, less tortuously sacrilegious.

 “We shouldn’t-” It was nearly a whine as he ground his palms against his lids, as if he hoped to scrub the temptation laid out before him from his mind. “The tradition.” His voice grew rough, but she noted what he _didn’t_ say.  She noted how he never actually told her to stop, or moved her as she knew he could if he truly wanted. No, he needed this just as badly as she did.

“I’m just trying to help you out here, you’ve been training so hard.” She appeased as she rubbed possessive circles along his hips.  “And it’s a shitty tradition anyways.”

“It’s sacred.” Yon-Rogg deadpanned.

 “And look at you. You wanna be good, you’re _really_ trying.” She could feel herself starting to ache and gush as her words effected her too. “But I want you to be good for me now.” A whisper against his fevered skin as she leaned forward to tenderly place a kiss on his inner thighs. His cock twitched upwards towards his navel, beads of clear arousal pearling at the tip.

“Carol _please_.” He groaned, arcing his entire body into the mattress.

An utterly wicked grin spread across her face. “Please what? Are you _begging_ me, commander?” 

It likely just slipped out, he probably didn’t even know what he was begging for besides mercy of some sort or another. Captain Marvel had become renowned as a fierce cosmic angel of mercy and yet when it came to him, she was merciless. Every time. 

“Are you begging me to suck you off, is that it?” Carol hounded him ruthlessly before she gave a gentle lick against the leaking tip.

Yon-Rogg swore impiously, one hand fisting into the sheets and the other arm still covering his eyes. Some very choice words to be sure, even in the seediest of Hala establishments.

“You _ngh-”_ He choked on his next words once she finally slipped him into her mouth.

 They’d done a lot in the past few months but this was technically a first. She marveled in the taste that was so unique to his skin. She sucked her cheeks in around him, rocking her head back and forth along his fullness, causing him to gasp on each movement. Carol found herself insatiable, taking in as much of him as she possibly could but still wanting to possess him further, somehow impossibly deeper. As if she could suck out all the backwards training, manipulation and lies he was fed- making him unquestionably hers more than he already was _Bring it down Carol._ 2 weeks without any action and here she was, waxing poetic and absolutely soaked over a blowjob.

As for Yon-Rogg, he looked a wreck. Arms still thrown over his face, Carol had half a mind to force him to look at her, but maybe she wasn’t that cruel. This was already the sweetest punishment she could devise against the man he used to be. The once-commander who was supposed to remain untouched for Relinquishment, but here he was; helplessly rocking his cock back into the mouth of that same Terran scum who was supposed to be so far beneath him. This was quite possibly the biggest _fuck you_ he could give his ancestors, and quite possibly the hottest thing she’d ever seen in powerless how he was to stop her; reduced to a flushed mess under her ministrations.

 Not being able to fit all of him inside at once, Carol opted to slide him out to lave attention on the glistening shaft. She slid her tongue along the darkening veins she found there and made to pull him back into the heat of her mouth but never got the chance. With a throaty grunt, Yon-Rogg ejaculated all over her face.

 Carol jumped back as his release splashed across her cheeks, the sheer volume and force of it taking her off guard. She pulled away from his cock, leaving it to spend the rest of a healthy Kree’s worth of sexual frustrations onto his stomach and chest.

 “ _Jesus_.” She marveled, tasting the salty warmth as it dribbled past her lips and down her chin.

After letting him bask in the haze for a few moments she chided him. “Y’know for such a good shot, your aim sucks.” Carol grumbled as she wiped it from her eye.

Yon-Rogg was far too winded to counter that, and for a few moments more his panting was the only sound that filled the room.

“It never fails to amaze me,” His words inundated with heavy breaths. “how dangerously persuasive you are.”

“How sweet.” Carol considered him. Somehow, knowing _she_ was the one to make him break through his deeply held Kree traditions did _things_ to her- that he’d do it for no one else but her. Piece by piece she was eroding at the man he used to be, and an honest man she’d happily _chose_ to serve with was slowly taking his place. The fire it started deep in her belly was raging beyond control. 

“Now, how’s about returning the favor? I mean you made it this far, might as well.” She began to pull off her sweats.

“Might as well.” He echoed with a sigh and the barest beginning of a hungry smile.


	3. Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol finally makes good on her promise to bring Una down to visit Maria and Monica, but with family being family- things could get a little more complicated. 
> 
> Also, Fury being Fury can make things a lot more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***This chapter contains themes of parenthood and children, so please consume responsibly!***
> 
> This was intended as a prompt fill for the "relationship reveal" prompt, but I also ended up wanting to fill the "toddler Una" request from a reader as well. I hope no one minds that I doubled up! I just didn't see Carol broadcasting her personal life, unless something were to force her hand, ehehe.

 

Carol punched in the coordinates to C-53, but to her it would forever be known as Earth. She was long overdue for a return, the itch of homesickness a constant scratching at the back of her mind, but the thought of facing Maria and her family again left her apprehensive. She’d left once and returned as Vers, and now, though she was technically Carol again- she was somehow still not the same Carol that had left.

Maybe it was because she now had a family of her own.

 She glanced at the empty seat beside her, where Yon-Rogg would’ve usually sat were he not otherwise preoccupied. When it came to whatever this thing with Yon-Rogg had become, this partnership that had bloomed into a family; Carol never felt she needed to explain herself. Which was easy because no one had ever asked for an explanation.

 

_Well, almost no one._

Maria knew Carol was working very closely with Yon-Rogg, as Carol often spoke of their missions together. But she never spoke of the true nature of their blooming relationship, and Maria clearly never suspected anything beyond a tenuous armistice.

That was, until Carol blurted the words “I’m pregnant.” in response to Maria’s good-intentioned tease that she “looked like shit” over the holo-communicator.

When Maria asked the standard shell-shocked question of “how” immediately followed by “who” Carol almost took offense, as if the answer should be obvious, before realizing she’d given no evidence to the contrary that Yon-Rogg was anything more than her reluctant prisoner bound to her service. They talked well into the next morning, laughed, cried, recounted.

Even after learning the truth, Maria elected to all but ignore Yon-Rogg throughout the entire process, despite the undeniable proof of his presence in Carol’s life swelling under her shirt a little more each time they communicated. When Una was born, Carol promised to bring her daughter down to visit her _very_ eager Auntie Maria and cousin Monica as soon as she was old enough and the galaxy wasn’t in the middle of tearing itself apart- a rare luxury.

At one-and-a-half years later, Una was developing into a precocious toddler right before Carol’s eyes. She’d picked up walking quickly, as Kree children often did. Her babbles had begun to form words as Yon-Rogg worked tirelessly at teaching her both Basic and Kree. Thus, Carol decided it was time for a much deserved visit to C-53, just in time for the holidays she’d missed so dearly at Maria’s.

Of course, Maria’s family would all be at the house and Carol knew most of them better than her own estranged family, which would mean questions. _Lots_ of questions. She did have a lot to answer for over the past 10 years after all.

. . . And then there was the whole issue of what to do with Yon-Rogg, who absolutely refused to be parted from their tiny daughter in the “clutches of some chaotic backwater planet” as he so delicately put it. Thus, Carol helped Maria finally ease herself into the idea of having Carol hold his leash for the duration of the visit, although Carol knew he usually had impeccable manners when not under the brainwashing influence of a manipulative omnipotent AI. 

 

When it was all said and done, Carol actually found the questions remarkably easy. Most of Maria’s family had assumed she’d been a part of some top secret military testing that had taken her off the grid, a sort of deep undercover thing. And Carol was content to leave it at that.

As for Yon-Rogg, he had a barrage of questions he tended to field with polite but clipped answers, which only added to his enigmatic presence at the dinner table.

“So uh- Mr. Rogg, do you work as Carol’s body guard?” A rather flamboyantly dressed and curious aunt inquired.

 “I can be, if the situation calls for it.”  Yon-Rogg clearly preened at the idea, and Carol rolled her eyes, as _if_ , she needed a body guard.

 “Mmm, she must be doing some pretty important work then, _huh_.” The aunt eyed Yon-Rogg head to toe. 

“You got to tell me what you do, havin’ some British hunk follow you around all day.” She later whispered to Carol, after the wine had been passed around quite liberally.

 

“You with the military too?” A very jolly uncle asked from across the table.

“Yes, I have served in the military.” The Kree replied simply.

“Didn’t know we were taking British mercenaries. You work as a spy or something? Feel like you’d be a good spy.”

 “Well, I’d hardly be a good spy if I _told_ you I was a spy, now would I?” Yon-Rogg haughtily responded, before Carol nudged his shin harder than strictly necessary under the table to remind him to keep a lid on the Kree superiority complex that came so naturally.

If that wasn’t enough, Maria’s glare at him for attempting to converse with her family and her death grip on the carving knife would more than suffice. He’d shot someone in her garage, _and_ kidnapped her best friend. Although the circumstances were quite different back then, Maria had more than enough fuel to hold a lifelong grudge. Even if he was the father of her favorite “lil dumplin”.

 Una “little dumplin” Danvers was the real star of the party, happily toddling around and basking in the attention of Maria’s extended family fawning over her. Monica showed the baby off to everyone she could, marveling over the way Una navigated the world around her, her little babbles, the way everything was an adventure with a baby who was experiencing earthly phenomena such as _bubbles_ for the first time. From where she stood on the back porch Carol watched Yon-Rogg lift Una into his arms. They were playing some sort of flying game while the setting sun caught them, the golden light making them look more otherworldly than they already were on this strange planet. 

 She kept watching while Yon-Rogg and her daughter kneeled to explore a world of grass and strange critters and Carol found herself longing for a childhood on earth she knew Una would never know. Carol thought of fireflies in a jar, her brother’s bike, scraped softball knees and the lakefront, before the memories turned sour with the bitter taste of restriction.  

No one blatantly asked where Una came from, seeing as they were a good natured and well mannered family. But given the way both Carol and Yon-Rogg unabashedly parented Una; they could likely deduce that Yon-Rogg was her father, which didn’t mean anything of significance to them. Carol appeared to have settled with an agreeable man, who was a good father to their daughter and that was that.

   

However, there was one surprise guest to the festivities, a latecomer, who saw much deeper- who knew too much; _he always did._

 

“So, I’m assuming you can’t also clone yourself.” Quipped one Nicolas J. Fury, while standing with his arms folded in Maria’s living room after most of the other guests had gone.

 Carol grinned and adjusted the squirming one-year old on her hip. “Mmm, no. But nice try at getting me talking about my personal life, Fury.”

She’d known this conversation was going to happen sooner or later. Apparently one doesn’t just go radio silent for years on end into the cosmic void, and causally return to visit her best friend for the holidays with a _baby_ without raising a few questions along the way. Fury seemed to be considering the sight of Carol with Una on her hip, but otherwise didn’t seem phased by Carol’s venture into motherhood, or if he was, he certainly didn’t show it.

“I guess I’m just curious at what else is up there. She seems human enough.”

“Is that your way of asking if her father has tentacles?” Carol narrowed her eyes and gave him a challenging smirk.

“Well. . .”

“Nah, no tentacles.” Carol shrugged when Fury gave a playful look of disillusionment. “I know, I was disappointed too.”

 “How’s it going up there, with the typical 9 to 5?” Fury probed, switching back to business. 

“Oh y’know, just ended a few wars.” Carol spoke casually, as if it were all just in a day’s work. “But, then I kinda almost started one. Got it under control though.”

“Sounds about right.” Fury murmured, eagerly waiting for Carol to regale him with an explanation.

And of course, Yon-Rogg picked that exact moment to come waltzing down the goddamn stairs.

Fury bristled, fully aware that Yon-Rogg was down here on Carol’s good-will. But likely not entirely sure _why_ he was here, besides functioning as Carol’s partner. Perhaps he’d fashioned Yon-Rogg as Carol’s personal spoil of war, forced into service as the ultimate act of revenge and humiliation. Carol couldn’t be sure what Fury suspected as her reasons for keeping Yon-Rogg around although she was sure he expected it wasn’t entirely of the former Starforce commander’s own volition.

With absolutely no regard for the current situation Una smiled and reached out for her father. “Abda-” And god Carol was so proud of her daughter, using Kree words already. But _just not right now._

“Da. Dada.” Una helpfully switched to babble in basic speech. Perfect.

“Da. . .Da?” Fury rounded on Carol, his expression a line between judgment and disbelief as he looked from Una to Yon-Rogg and back again.

And just like that, she could see it in Fury’s expression as all the pieces suddenly fit together. The honeyed hue of Una’s eyes that walked the line between human and just this side of ethereal and the way her golden hair curled into tousled little tufts, as if to say; yeah she was definitely Carol’s but not _entirely_.

 _Well shit_. There was no point in lying to Fury, and denying her family. Might as well own it for what it was, Carol was simple like that. Manipulation and lies wasn’t really her area of expertise, after all. Carol managed her best shit-eating grin, as she often did when things went south.

“Yep.” She bald-faced admitted before sealing the deal by neatly handing Una off to Yon-Rogg, who made to leave the room without sparing Fury a second glance or word.   

Fury just raised eyebrows before settling back into neutral stoicism, added years and training had apparently tempered Fury’s reactions. Una waved a little chubby hand as her father carried her off, and naturally Fury beamed his warmest smile at the toddler and waved back, before turning back to Carol and straightening.

“I’m not gonna ask, because I don’t wanna know.” He flatly told her.

“Good, ‘cause I wouldn’t tell even if you did.” She stated just as seriously, before she couldn’t hold the façade anymore and they both broke into grins.

The condemnation and disappointment she’d expected never came. Just the resigned humor of a man who knew too much already. And perhaps he did. Perhaps, in some way, he had his own illicit transgressions too.

“Yeah, well whenever you wanna talking about that cloning, I’m ready to listen.” Fury went on like nothing happened.

“Ooh sorry,” Carol winced slightly in jest “That’s _classified_. But I can happily spill the secrets of the universe. You might want to sit down for this, though.” She didn’t miss a beat as she flopped down on the well worn sofa.

He seated himself in the armchair across from her. “Got a State of the Universe Address prepared for me?”

“Mmm,” Carol’s eyes twinkled with amusement, before steeling themselves into something more befitting of a literal one-woman-army.  “Something like that.”

  


	4. Sentiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yon-Rogg takes a literal bullet for Carol and while he recovers, she thinks about what she might've stood to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For blackbanners prompt of "the first time Carol and Yon Rogg showing each other how they really felt?". I don't see either of them as feeling sharers, but I thought a situation like this might force some confessions of a sort.

 

“Yon-Rogg,” She could see him beginning to stir, his face contorting as his conscious mind struggled to come to terms with the hell his body had just been through. 

“You’re awake. You’re _awake_.” Carol’s voice was thick with disbelief as she immediately sat up from where she was seated at his bedside, stiff muscles protesting. 

She allowed herself a moment of thankful respite when he finally cracked open his eyes, blinking up rapidly as they adjusted to the harsh lights of the sterile room. His gaze hazily settled on hers, his pupils a tiny pin-prick against the expanse of golden iris.

Although he was clearly still somewhat sedated and it should probably wait, her emotions outpoured before she could stop herself.

“You’re goddamn lucky to be alive, and I’m really, _really_ pissed at you.” Watching Yon-Rogg nearly bleed out on a godforsaken asteroid in some backwards system had left her distraught in unspeakable ways.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Hearing him slur slightly with the drugs was a most disconcerting sound. It didn’t fit- it wasn’t _right_. He wasn’t supposed to need drugs because he wasn’t supposed to get hurt by anyone else.

“What the _fuck_ were you thinking?”  He didn’t ask where he was, or what’d happened- so she could only assume he knew, he remembered. She could feel herself growing angrier and more distraught over the memory of him falling, the blaster-bolt leaving a smoldering hole through the fabric of his suit.

“You’re alive.” He just smiled fondly at her, as if she’d hung the sun the the sky for him just by sitting at his bedside. Whatever they’d given him for the pain, must be making him feel pretty damn content. And perhaps more than a little loopy.  

“ _No shit_ , I’m alive- of course I’m alive. That blast was meant for me, and I was gonna deflect it back at them- that was the whole plan.” Carol was relentless, all but shouting as she felt herself growing heated as the emotions churned inside her uncomfortably. “But you got in the way, _why_?”

An attendant poked his violet-skinned head into the open doorway at the ruckus Carol was causing in the med-bay. Carol just glared back at him until he retreated, but lowered her voice nonetheless as she turned back to her prone partner.

 “You always chewed me out for not using my fucking head, and now look. You clearly didn’t use yours.”

“I couldn’t watch you die in front of me again.”  He turned his head to blink up at the ceiling, the drugs seemed to be making him feel fuzzy. He mumbled something along the lines of “think about it all the time.”

“I _wasn’t_ going-” Realizing she was a hairsbreadth from shouting again, she took a breath, swallowed her outpouring emotions and recomposed herself. “You didn’t trust me; you literally threw yourself into blaster fire because you didn’t trust me.”

Though she chastised him while he was down, in Yon-Rogg’s eyes it would’ve been much greater disrespect to coddle him. In that way Carol had always been more Kree. It also helped that she was fairly pissed at him for still not completely trusting that she could handle herself out there too. 

“Well, if you’re still alive, I can’t say I regret it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, Carol. Surely you know that.”

“You’re an idiot.” Despite herself, she reached for his hand and found the solid warmth against her fingers. Just another confounding duality that was the nature of Carol Danvers and her relationship with her former mentor.

“No, I’m _Kree_. You have my unyielding loyalty, as long as I live.” He was pledging himself to her again, as he was wont to do when feeling particularly sentimental. 

“Yeah well, unyielding loyalty better learn how to control his impulses, especially if he wants to live longer.” The ironic echo of her words wasn’t lost on her. She’d dreamed of a day she could use his words against him, but there was no victory for the harrowing hours she’d spent by his bedside.  

“You need to learn to trust me.” She continued and saw him open his mouth to protest. “No, I mean _really_ trust me. Remember how you were the only one who knew how strong I really was- how you stood up for me against the team? What happened?” She gave his hand a squeeze as she leaned in close.

 “Things are different now, I guess.” He told her.

“With me?” Carol was confused. Although she knew things were different, she’d expected him to trust her more now than before, if anything.

“Mm, no. With _us_.”

 “Look, if something happened to you I-” Carol didn’t speak the language of gushy confessions, but this came dangerously close. She just needed him to understand why he couldn’t do this to her again. _Ever._  “I don’t know what I’d-”

“Something _did_ happen to me.” He cut her off, smiling blissfully as if perfectly content to exist within the moment, no matter the weight of the conversation.

 He’d interrupted her emphatic speech, but he sounded so sweet and sedate under the anesthesia that she couldn’t bring herself to care.  “What happened?” She asked instead.

He laughed breathlessly, squeezing her hand in return. “You.”

**Author's Note:**

> needed a place to dump my drabbles. I am currently taking prompt requests of any kind, feel free to drop them here or on tumblr! C:


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